


I Whisper Your Name (I Wish I Could Scream It)

by Lady_Vibeke



Series: Cara Dune & Din Djarin: Tales of Two Space Idiots in Love [10]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Din Djarin is a Softie, F/M, Feelings, Flash Fic, Heartache, Idiots in Love, Loneliness, Pining, Poetic, Post-Season/Series 01, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-22 20:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: Her name is written everywhere, on every surface, a mark she left on every single thing she touched, sat on, polished, punched.Her face fills his eyes blind. Beautiful. Unattainable.Lost.The lack of her voice drills through his brain as he takes his head between his hands and swallows the nostalgia like bitter bile, but it always comes up again. It always comes back, in the end.Go back,the silence screams.Go back,the silence cries.Go back to her. Fill this place with her again.
Relationships: Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Cara Dune & Din Djarin: Tales of Two Space Idiots in Love [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709416
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	I Whisper Your Name (I Wish I Could Scream It)

**Author's Note:**

> Saw [this post](https://pedroispunk.tumblr.com/post/615434212611424256/pedro-pascal-for-24hourplays-on-ig) on Tumblr like ten minutes ago. I swooned on Pedro for a reasonable while, then had a sudden inspiration and this is what sparked from it.
> 
> VERY ANGSTY. Sorry.

_I whisper you name._

  
  


***

  
  


The Mandalorian was brought up to be a warrior.

He was raised to face pain and death, prepared to die in battle.

His training didn't teach him how to deal with war when it's raging _inside._

He sees her absence in everything. Every space, every corner is bursting with it, dull, tragically _empty._

It's a void painted in a disappearance of shadows: the shadow of her looming behind him in the cockpit (and her snarky comments and the flirty laughter, always there, and now there no more); the shadow of her clothes hanging among his own to dry after the blood and the dirt and the sweat were washed away; the shadow of her lashes on her cheeks under every burning sun in the galaxy, under every pale moonlight, every neon blaze.

The Razor Crest is a shell scattered with deafening memories. There is a silence that no noise can cancel, and sometimes it makes him sick, sometimes it makes him sad. Sometimes it makes him dead inside.

The silence whispers, whispers, whispers. _Screams._

Her name is written everywhere, on every surface, a mark she left on every single thing she touched, sat on, polished, punched.

Her face fills his eyes blind. Beautiful. Unattainable. _Lost._

The lack of her voice drills through his brain as he takes his head between his hands and swallows the nostalgia like bitter bile, but it always comes up again. It always comes back, in the end.

 _Go back,_ the silence screams.

 _Go back,_ the silence cries.

_Go back to her. Fill this place with her again._

The Mandalorian sobs deep in his soul without a single tear. Dry pain, dry agony – it makes it so much worse.

From his carrier, the kid puts a hand on the Mandalorian's head and the little sound he lets out feels like a hopeless sigh.

If he went back to her, he wouldn't have the words he needs. If he were as good with words as he is with weapons, maybe he could have a chance.

If he went back to her and she punched him instead of talking, maybe things would be easier, he could pull this off.

 _Go back,_ the silence pleads.

If only.

If only...

 _What is lost can be found again,_ the silence reasons, desperately, but there is no room for reason in the dark tangle of the Mandalorian's thoughts.

 _Break this numbness,_ the silence begs. _Break your own heart, if that's what it takes._

 _Just bring her back,_ the silence weeps.

“I can't,” the Madalorian whispers to no one. She would ask for a reason and he can't explain.

He's a coward.

He's a _hut'uun._

He can almost hear her snicker into his ear and mock him for this weakness.

_“Fear doesn't become you, Mando.”_

Here he is, the frightened warrior.

The shy warrior.

The clumsy warrior.

The shadow of her lingering in his heart whispers: _“I would love you all the same.”_

***

  
  


_I wish I could scream it._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm stressed and moody, work is still hell and I wish I could write happy things but this is all my muse gave me, for now.
> 
> I'm still working on the second part of the second chapter of the modern AU, and I'm also writing a new OT3 fic (hot, flirty, scruffy Paz Vizla is coming, guys, brace yourselves!), but at the moment I can't seem to be able to focus properly, so hopefully next weekend I'll be slightly more relaxed due to a very short break from this real life madness.
> 
> I know this is heavy with angst and I won't be offended if you just skip this. Or you can just yell at me neither you nor poor Soft Boi Din deserved this, I'd totally understand and agree. :)


End file.
